


If the sky should tumble and fall

by samshinechester



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: spnspringfling, Established Relationship, Jensen poses as Dean Smith, M/M, Medical Experimentation, it's also Smith/Wesson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samshinechester/pseuds/samshinechester
Summary: Jensen wouldn’t describe himself as a man of many secrets.Sure, he’s got a couple of things he really prefers to keep under wraps, but these go hand in hand with his job and his personal safety both. Broadcasting them for the world to see would be— unwise.





	If the sky should tumble and fall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Plaidandwhiskey (Spnpringfling 2017). The prompt I chose was 'I'm way too sober for this', and I added J2 with a dash of Swesson on the side. Enjoy.
> 
> Title stolen from 'Stand By Me', by B.E. King. Thanks to Wetsammywinchester for the encouragement and the beta job <3
> 
> (The medical experimentation tag is an extra precaution. It's mentioned and it doesn't involve the Js)

Jensen wouldn’t describe himself as a man of many secrets.

Sure, he’s got a couple of things he really prefers to keep under wraps, but these go hand in hand with his job and his personal safety both. Broadcasting them for the world to see would be— unwise.

Take JT, for example. Under normal circumstances, Jensen would like to trade the hotel rooms and coded knocks on doors for a lunch date at a diner downtown. Or a stroll through the park, a call made from a real phone rather than a burner, or, or Netflix and a damn pizza at Jensen’s place. Circumstances are what they are though. They won’t change anytime soon, so Jensen has to content himself with a few hours snagged here and there.

Case in point, right now. His dick could maybe go for round two if he had an extra twenty minutes to spare and if JT wasn’t still basking in the afterglow.

“Thinking too loud,” JT says and elbows him in the ribs. “Spoiling my sleep. No fun.”

Jensen smirks. Get JT to orgasm and oh boy, does he crash hard. “Was just thinking how the freshly fucked look suits you.”

JT laughs but doesn’t reply further, just burrows his face deeper into his pillow. He said he had the whole afternoon off, and it looks like he plans to take full advantage of it. Lucky bastard. Jensen, on the other hand, has a job lined up next.

Better get a move on.

“What’cha doin’?” JT asks when Jensen emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, his hair still wet from the shower.

“Unlike some lazy ass I know, I’ve got to work.”

“Oh babe, my poor feelings. You’re hurting them.”

Jensen reaches over to slap JT on the ass, then he starts picking up his clothes. Whenever they meet, Jensen makes a conscious effort to drop every weapon he carries on his person, keeping only a small knife shoved under the mattress. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best he could come up with on a short notice. Retrieving it under the pretense of fixing his shoelaces however, tying the ankle sheath and slipping it in? It always makes him feel better.

Once he’s fully dressed, Jensen grabs his briefcase and slides a hand along JT’s spine. “See ya, kid.”

“Hm, yeah,” JT says and rolls over to blow Jensen a kiss. Jensen gives him the finger, but lingers in the doorway a moment longer, soaking the tan of JT’s skin, the brown of his hair, the pink of his lips. Committing details to memory. The rest of the room is a mess of clashing colors, but JT looks— well, he looks _right_.

When Jensen leaves the room, and the door locks behind his back, the whole world reverts to its usual black and white hues.

 

++

 

(It’s not that JT is a secrets-free, open-book kind of guy either. Jensen is well aware of that. The mere fact that JT never offered his full name and never pressed for details about Jensen vaguetalking about his own is telling. If it wasn’t for the whole soulmates thing, Jensen would have picked JT’s life apart, treated it like another job. He would have.)

 

++

 

Mr. Adler is a sleazy asshole. Jensen should take him out on principle, free of charge, but the six figures payment the company offers for this job is enough to keep Jensen’s hands well and far away from his gun. Fingers crossed in his lap, fake composure, Jensen is calm. Attentive. Listening.

“So, Mr—”

“Smith,” Jensen says. “Dean Smith.”

Mr. Adler nods. “Of course. So, Mr. _Smith_ , I guess there’s no need to stress how crucial it is for us to fix this security breach. Crucial and time-sensitive.” He bares his teeth in something that’s supposed to be a smile, Jensen is quite sure. Unfortunately, it resembles more a grimace than a smile.

“If the competition gains access to our data about the Soulmates Project, we’d lose millions. Millions! And that’s not acceptable, we won the contract fair and square. The government trusted us to crack this riddle, us. Besides—”

“Just remind me about your, uh, Project?” Jensen says, cutting Mr. Adler off. He’s pleasant as fuck, his voice low and his hands in his lap, away from the gun. Well and far away. “I need to cross-check facts, you know.”

“It’s all—”

“Confidential. Else your company wouldn’t have asked for my services.”

Jensen would have smiled at this point, a silent reminder of how legality got left in the dust when Mr. Adler’s company first contacted him. But he’s already working hard on staying still, on pretending this is just another job. On ignoring his gun and the way his fingers are itching to pull it out. Given the situation, a blank stare is the best Jensen can do.

“All right.”

While Mr. Adler drones about soulmates who can see colors only when they’re in close proximity, the experiments they’re authorized to perform on the test subjects they acquired and so on, Jensen wonders which color Mr. Adler’s insides would look like after he gutted him like a fish.

 

++

 

The job is a fucking nightmare. Jensen is posing as the director of sales and marketing, and his computer has access to the whole intranet system minus the CEO, which is not ideal, sure, but he’s worked with less. That’s not the point. The point is that a. the Soulmates Project is a codename for ‘let’s conduct medical experiments on people for profit, yay’, and b. whoever is stealing data is damn good. Tracking that shit down should be easier. Jensen should already be somewhere else, doing something— else.

Snuff politicians out. Or heads of criminal organizations. Cheating billionaires spouses. Anything but this.

(It hits too close to home. Jensen didn’t see any of the _subjects_ , as they’re called on paper, but he knows he could be among them. That JT could be among them. All it'd take is a slip.)

 

++

 

Jensen’s burner phone buzzes while he’s scanning more strings of code. He’s close now, but the distraction is totally welcome.

“Hey,” he says after picking up.

“Hey, babe.” JT sounds a little out of breath, but otherwise fine. “You busy?”

“Working.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause, and Jensen spins his chair toward the windows. With colors, he supposes the view from there would be spectacular. Then JT grabs his attention again, asking if it’s a good kind of job or what, and Jensen has to laugh. “I’m way too sober for this.”

“Yeah. I could say the same, really.” JT laughs a little, too. “I was thinking, we could meet up? Maybe tonight?”

“Hmm.” Non-committal. Jensen would love to, but the sooner he’s done with this damn job, the better. “I don’t think I can make it,” he says. Jensen hopes his voice conveys both regret and apology. “Sorry.”

“No time? It’s all right.”

“Listen, a couple days max. Nothing—” and then Jensen has to cut himself off because he’s either hallucinating or about to lose it. The floor has a faint brown hue, the walls are purple and ugly as sin, and, and the plant in the corner is a washed out green. He blinks, but when he opens his eyes, colors are still there. Fuck.

“Babe?”

JT seems worried now, but there’s no need to mention this, uh, new development. Not over the phone anyway. Maybe it’s a glitch, or maybe after a while, having a simple conversation is enough to trigger the whole colors thing. Their bond must be strengthening or whatever. Jensen breathes in, out. He’s calm. Calm.

“I’m fine. Just gotta go, boss is calling. See you, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Text you a new number soon.”

White and black show up as soon as Jensen disconnects the call.

 

++

 

(It should have tipped him off. It should have, Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen is so stupid.)

 

++

 

Jensen finds the breach on the next day, at four thirty pm. The computer is transmitting data right under his eyes, and he has a real location. IT section, cubicle b-126. Employee’s name is S. Wesson.

All he has to do now is head to IT, grab that Wesson dude (gal?), and hand them over to Mr. Adler. That, and later on put a bullet in their brain. He doesn't really keep track of his kills, but it's routine, with or without the complementary disposal of the body.

Cash in, Jensen out, easy peasy. Except that it's not.

While the elevator goes down, between the third and the second floor, color starts to creep in. The mirror panels reflect his skin, pale but not monochrome anymore. Some of his veins are blue, pulsing a bit too fast along his wrists, his hands. His suit flat out sucks.

(Stupid)

JT's got to be nearby, and Jensen itches to call him, make sure he's okay. That he's out and about somewhere and not a, a new test subject.

The elevator pings, and colors become more vibrant after the doors slid open. IT is right there, turn left and down a couple of steps, and Jensen feels like throwing up.

(Stupid, stupid, stupid.)

Where the fuck is JT? Where the fuck is cubicle b-126? He scans the rows in front of him, looking for S. Wesson and thinking about JT. He should go back to his office, calm down.

He should. But.

The broad back he sees in b-126 is familiar. The hair.

“Mr. Wesson?” Jensen says. His voice is steady, low. “I've got a problem with my printer.”

S. Wesson looks frozen in his chair. Jensen watches him click on the shift key, then he turns around, and Jensen locks eyes with JT.

 

++

 

(The next day, Mr. Shurley, CEO of The Heaven, Inc., finds out that the whole database has been wiped clean. It’s as if the Soulmates Project never existed, and the computer that sent out the info corrupted the whole system during the transfer.)

(Later that night, the body of Mr. Adler is found by the janitor, shot in the face and left in the recycling dumpster.)


End file.
